The Angel Plague
by Wandergirl108
Summary: "What did he do to her? Why won't she speak?" Oh, Van Pelt, you can't even begin to imagine the answer. Here it is, referenced in my story "RJ's Best Friend" and late in "Bleeding Hearts": the ultimate fate of Red John's youngest, most innocent, and possibly most unfortunate friend.


"Are you ready?"

Kristina Frye stood outside, looking up at the nearby tree, enjoying the last breaths of fresh air she would get to enjoy for a long time. She sighed and turned to the man who had spoken.

"I'm ready," she told Red John bravely.

"Come, then," he said, standing aside and gesturing through the open door.

Kristina swallowed nervously, but she followed Red John's direction.

She led the way as they walked through the empty building she had recently moved to, until they came to a room with two chairs and a spotlight shining directly on one of them.

Kristina sat down in the spotlit chair, fingering the crystal around her neck nervously.

"Relax, My Sweet, Innocent Angel," Red John said soothingly as he sat down in front of her.

Kristina took a deep breath. "I've…never actually been put under myself," she told him. "I admit I'm…a little nervous."

Red John nodded. "Of course you are," he said. He hesitated, then added, "We don't have to do this. You know I'm happy to continue taking care of you-"

"I can't," Kristina interrupted, "go one more day making Patrick unhappy." Her demeanor was ashamed, but certain, and she met Red John's eyes. "I know you need to make it so I completely forget one of you, so that I can return to the world without being a danger to you, so that Patrick can know that I'm safe and move on with his life," she told him; "I made my bed, now I have to lie in it. Thank you, for doing this for me, even though I know how much you love to make Patrick miserable."

"There is nothing I would not do for one of my friends," Red John told her reassuringly.

She nodded. "I know," she said. She hesitated, then said, "I wish…Patrick could know that. I wish he could know the truth about you."

"My Old Friend and I are meant to be enemies, and nothing else," Red John said firmly.

"I know," Kristina said again. She took another deep breath, then said, "Let's do this."

Red John nodded. "Very well," he said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife, still sheathed in its handle. He unfolded it - the instrument of torture and murder he had made himself, that had tasted the blood of so many. A little bit of fear skittered through Kristina at the sight, though she knew he wasn't going to hurt her.

Red John tossed his unfolded knife around a bit, his hands and the handle dancing with one another expertly, almost beautifully. Kristina tried to concentrate on the light that reflected off the blade as it spun through the air to quell her nervousness. Then, Red John grasped the handle in his right hand and pushed an invisible button with his thumb, and from out of the end of the blade came a very thin hypodermic needle.

Kristina's breath caught. Red John noticed, and he turned to her. "This will be painless," he told her soothingly.

"I'm…not so fond of needles," Kristina said, fingering the bandage on her right inner elbow, "you know that. I…wish we could just do this the normal way."

"The normal way might not be as thorough as this will be," Red John told her, "and I need to make absolutely certain that this goes as we want it do, without even the slightest deviation."

"I know," Kristina said again.

Red John nodded. Then, he leaned forward, and quickly, before Kristina could even flinch, he plunged the needle into the side of her neck, all the way up to where it came out of the blade.

Kristina immediately felt her mind grow foggy. Her eyes widened, and she became entranced by the face in front of her…it was all she could see…all she knew…It was beautiful…

"Can you hear me, Kristina?"

She saw the lips on the face move, and heard the sound at the same time as though from far away, but her mind didn't connect the two things.

"Yes," she heard herself say.

"Do you know where you are?"

"No," she replied.

"You are in the afterlife," the face and voice told her. "You are safe…you are happy…it is a calm and peaceful place…beautiful…"

"Yes…" she heard herself say. Her eyes slowly began to make out her surroundings. She was standing on a hill covered in wildflowers. The sky above her was blue, and though the sun was shining, she felt only its warmth, and knew that it would not burn her. A light breeze swirled around her as she surveyed the beauty that surrounded her.

The voice was still speaking, though the face was gone.

"Your life is as a dream to you now," it told her. "You feel as though you have awoken, and all is well."

"Yes…" Her thoughts turned to Patrick Jane, and she smiled. "I wish Patrick could see this, _before_ he dies," she said without thinking.

There was a moment of silence, though the entity that had spoken was still in her presence, she knew…and something started to feel a bit wrong. What was it about Patrick Jane that made her feel less content than she had been a second ago?

She frowned.

"He will see, one day," the voice said, and everything was well again. "Death cannot be fought…and one day, be it before his time or after, he will know, and he will see…"

"He will worry about me until he does," she murmured, her discontent suddenly growing again.

"There is no need to feel sad," the voice said. "You have moved on, it is the way of all things…you haven't left him behind…he will know your fate, and he will move on with his own life, until he joins you…"

But something still wasn't right.

Then the voice said, "Does the name 'Red John' mean anything to you?"

"Yes," she replied. The name _did_ mean something to her, something very important that she…wanted to remember…but was she _supposed_ to remember?…

"No," said the voice, "it doesn't. The name 'Red John' is meaningless to you. You have no knowledge of anyone or anything by that name…it isn't a name at all…just nonsense words, with no understandable meaning…"

"No meaning," she repeated. The voice was right. The words 'Red John' made no sense, none at all. And there was nothing for her to feel discontent about. All was well. The afterlife was around her, a beautiful new world to live in and enjoy, with all her corporal needs completely done away with.

But…

"How did I die?" she asked the voice.

"It doesn't matter," the voice told her; "it isn't important, now that you've moved on…You have moved on, Kristina Frye…you have no troubles, no sorrows, no pain…all is well…"

_All is well._ She smiled and lifted her arms to the beautiful, benevolent sun above her. She looked directly at it, and it didn't hurt her eyes. There was no hurt here, no trouble, no sadness…

"You will only wake up when I tell you to return, My Sweet," said the voice.

"Huh?" That didn't make any sense…

"Nothing," said the voice. "Nothing…it's not important…nothing matters…nothing is troubling, nothing is wrong…all is well…Be free in the afterlife, Kristina…"

"Yes." She breathed in, the scent of wildflowers wafting up into the air around her on a light wind. Suddenly, she ran down the hill, laughing with joy at the very sensation of movement. She allowed herself to fall onto her back, and there was no pain when she landed, of any kind. She closed her eyes, and knew complete and total happiness.

~o~

Red John withdrew the needle; Kristina's gaze was distant, and she was completely still. Her mind, no doubt, was creating a world for her - she may well believe herself to be in motion at that very moment, for all he knew.

He brought her to her feet slowly, shepherding her through another door into another room with two chairs and a spotlight. She obeyed his directions mindlessly, completely in a trance.

He sat her down in the chair, left behind a red herring or two for the police to wonder about, then exited the building, mounted the Nightrider, and was gone.

_Soon, she will be in police custody; I'm sure Brett has already given My Old Friend the address,_ he thought. He thought of Kristina, and disgust welled in his chest. _That's what you get for falling in love with that fool,_ he thought spitefully. _Enjoy the fake afterlife, Kristina, until you are sent to the real one…you stupid, _stupid_ girl._ He shook his head.

_I almost pity you…_


End file.
